


A Kiss and a River (REMIX)

by One and Five Nines (Obani)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Brainwashing, Drug Use, Homophobia, Hydra Steve Rogers, Implied Genocide, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Misogyny, Prince Steve, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 07:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17893730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obani/pseuds/One%20and%20Five%20Nines
Summary: Evil prince Steve meets a sexy stranger in the forest





	A Kiss and a River (REMIX)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Prince and a Robber](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15165332) by [dreamkist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamkist/pseuds/dreamkist). 
  * In response to a prompt by [dreamkist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamkist/pseuds/dreamkist) in the [2019_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2019_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness) collection. 



> The first half of this is a more direct remix of the original, then halfway through things go a little off the rails

“Steven, you are old enough now to be knighted.” Steve’s father, the king, announced from his throne. Steve had anticipated something like this when he’d been summoned to the great hall to meet privately with the king. “You will be leading the purifications from now on. You will learn to treat peasants as they deserve to be treated.”

“Yes Sire.” Steve replied with a reverential nod of his head. Pride squirmed sickeningly in his chest. The thought that soon he would be responsible for punishing dissenters and undesirables in his father’s kingdom made Steve so happy, he could puke. “Thank you.”

With a crook of his finger, Steve’s father beckoned him to come closer, and Steve obeyed, kneeling before the throne.

“I could not have wished for a better son.” He said, and offered Steve his hand. Steve took a second to admire his father’s ring, the symbol of his sovereign authority, before laying a kiss on the stone; a large ruby carved into the shape of a blood red skull.

Steve was dismissed from the king’s presence feeling elated, grateful and buzzing with nervous energy. His thoughts always got so chaotic whenever his father gave him orders. The responsibility was a great honor, and Steve enjoyed the work, but he could do without the noise in the back of his mind. Going for a ride always cleared his thoughts, though, and it was a beautiful day for it. Steve headed to the stables.

Bucky was waiting for him when he arrived. Steve didn’t remember why he’d named the horse Bucky. It didn’t make much sense, after all, the last thing a horse should do is _buck,_ but it had just seemed right. As he was saddling the horse, he heard someone enter the stables, and he turned to see one of the royal guardsmen watching him.

“Where’re you headed?” He asked. It was Rumlow, one of Steve’s friends at the castle. Behind him was that creature some of the men liked to play with; a pale, sickly, one-armed boy around Steve’s own age. He wore a muzzle to keep him from spouting his odd stories. Back when he could speak he always seemed desperate to make Steve believe these weird little tales he’d made up. What… what was his name again?

“Hey, Steve. I’m talking to you.” Rumlow prodded good-naturedly, and Steve realized he’d been staring at the boy instead of answering his friend’s question.

“Just gonna ride around.” Steve lifted himself onto his horse and settled into the saddle. “You should come.” Being alone with Rumlow had an appeal to it, one Steve didn’t like to think about too much.

“Not today.” Rumlow clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder hard enough to make the kid flinch. “Me and the guys are gonna use this as target practice. See if he can learn to catch one-handed under duress.”

The boy looked up at Steve pleadingly. Steve’s fists clenched the way they always did when something was funny, and he laughed. He laughed until tears were streaming down his cheeks.

Steve rode until he and Bucky were far from the castle. It seemed like the thing to do. After a long while, he knew Bucky would need a break, so he dismounted and led the horse at a leisurely pace through the winding forest paths until they reached a small clearing with a river going through it. Steve led the animal to the water to drink then found himself a dry patch of grass to lounge on.

His mind was quiet then, and Steve relaxed into the simple pleasure of the moment. The sun was warm on Steve’s skin, the river babbled soothingly, leaves rustled in the forest. Some kind of memory floated around in his mind, of being a child and playing in a river during the hot summer days. When the sun went down he and another boy would race to Steve’s house. His mother was baking him a pie.

Except Steve didn’t have a mother. He’d never had a mother or a house or a childhood friend. Before the king had adopted him, Steve had nothing. He was nothing. This was just another of the waking dreams Steve sometimes experienced. It never really happened.

In the forest, a twig cracked.

Steve sprang up, drew his sword and turned towards the sound in one fluid motion. Just past the edge of the trees, a figure stood frozen mid-stride on his way towards Steve. It was obvious that the man had been trying to sneak up on him. Leaves blocked his face, so Steve couldn’t see who he was.

“Explain yourself.” Steve demanded.

The man held his hands up. “I’m just passing through. Didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll be on my way then, yeah?” He tried to take a step backwards.

“Don’t” Steve warned. He wasn’t fooled; this man was up to something. He was dressed as commoner, but the way he moved and the sound of his voice were oddly familiar. Steve had an uncannily perfect memory, and he was sure he would know this guy if he could just see his face. “If you’ve got nothing to hide, you won’t mind stepping out where I can see you.”

For a second, it looked like the man was going to try to bolt, but then he stepped out into the clearing. He wore a hood, but that didn’t conceal his striking dark hair and eyes. Steve knew him immediately.

“Lord Stark?”

“Stark? Isn’t he that guy who died a while back?” The man -who was definitely Stark, Steve had no doubt- mused.

Steve frowned deeply. “I don’t like being lied to.” To emphasize his point, he raised his sword.

“Ah! Busted.” Stark grimaced. “Honestly, I’m flattered you recognize me. We met, what, twice?”

“Something like that.” Steve agreed. The Earl of Stark and his wife had been to the castle a handful of times before the lord’s _apparent_ death. Steve had been just a boy then, but old enough to mingle with the visiting nobility. He’d found Stark slightly more notable than any of the other aristocrats who came to fawn over his father. Stark was a little more charismatic, a bit kinder, a little more… Steve didn’t want to say _handsome_.

“You don’t seem inordinately surprised.” Stark said, pulling Steve back into the present as he began to meander around the clearing. The way he walked was so graceful, Steve had trouble looking away. Stark _was_ very handsome.

“Am I supposed to be?” Steve challenged. So what if the guy was handsome? So what if Steve was feeling a little breathless just looking at him? That didn’t mean anything.

Stark shot him an incredulous look. “No, I suppose you have conversations with dead people all the time.” When Stark spoke it almost sounded like a purr. Steve’s stomach flipped. How did he do that?

Steve shrugged and returned his sword to its sheath. His palms were getting sweaty and he didn’t want to drop his weapon and look foolish. For some reason it was very important not to look foolish in front of Lord Stark. “You were only ever considered missing. Never found a body. Guess we both know why.”

“Hmm… guess so.” Stark was putting a lot of effort into appearing relaxed, but he was anxious. Steve could tell. His whole body was tense. His whole body was tight. His whole tight little body was so tense and… so tight. He was all lithe and muscled, and Steve’s eyes raked over him down to where his Lincoln-green tunic draped over the curve of his-

 _Stop. Stop thinking like that. It’s disgusting_. “So, uh, kinda shocked to find you hiding out in the king’s forest. My father’s forest. Does your, ah… does your wife know you’re still alive and out… um… here?” Did Steve sound stressed? Was his voice shaking?

The way Stark looked at him then, as if reading his mind, made a thin sheen of sweat break out on Steve’s forehead. He was being paranoid. Stark didn’t suspect… nobody suspected. Not that there was anything _to_ suspect, because Steve was perfectly normal.

Flashing a smile, Stark replied, “I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping _Her Ladyship_ in the dark about, god, almost everything I do. There are things a guy just can’t tell his wife, yeah? Things that have to stay between men.”

What… what did that mean? Steve cast his gaze around, looking for anything to focus on besides Stark’s dark, warm eyes, which were currently boring a hole right through him. “That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

“What can I say. I’m eccentric.” Stark laughed as he took a step closer to Steve.

“Lord Stark, this is private property-“

“Tony.” Stark -Tony- smirked. He was getting closer. “Why don’t you call me Tony, Your Highness.”

Steve felt a little lightheaded. “Tony…”

They were so close now, and without warning Steve felt Tony grab his hand. He looked down at where their hands touched, where Tony was touching him, and his heart raced. This wasn’t right, but Steve couldn’t look away.

Tony leaned closer, and Steve jumped back.

“I don’t- I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Ton- _Lord Stark_.” Steve backed away, breathless and lightheaded, but Tony followed him, forcing Steve to continue his blind retreat. “I’m sworn to protect- I am the _prince…_ I’m- I can’t- _You_ can’t live in these woods; they belong to my father. I belong-“

Steve stopped when he felt his back hit against a tree. Tony had him pinned, and he took full advantage of that fact to press their bodies close together. Steve’s heart was thudding like a marching drum at this point, rattling a frantic beat through his whole body. Tony was so small. Steve should just shove him off, run him through with his sword, run away…

Besides swallowing around the lump in his throat, Steve didn’t do anything.

“You seem kinda stressed, Your Highness.” He whispered against Steve’s cheek. Goosebumps appeared on the place where Tony’s breath touched him.

“Stop.” Steve rasped. “This is a crime.”

“What crime? We aren’t even _doing_ anything.” Tony tilted his head so Steve felt his breath against his lips that time. _Oh my god_.

“You’re planning-“

“Planning what? Tell me what I’m planning.” Tony grinned viciously. “Can’t punish me until I actually do it, right? Punishment comes after the crime.”

That wasn’t technically true, but Steve didn’t feel like being pedantic. Warmth flooded his body as possibilities of things Tony might do to him swirled in his mind, each idea more exciting than the last.

 _NO!_ Not exciting! _Disgusting_. This was- he was- they were…

Just like that, it clicked. They were _alone_. Steve could do whatever he wanted.

“You’re planning… to kiss me.” Steve looked past Tony, focusing on the river flowing by. He didn’t want to have to see it. Leaning up, Tony pressed a light kiss against Steve’s cheek.

“Scandalous. How do you think I’ll do in prison?”

Steve glanced down to see Tony smiling, but his dark eyes were deathly serious. He was waiting to see what Steve would do next.

“No.” Steve said. “A real one.”

It was light at first. Tony just touched their lips together, but even that was enough to pull a moan from deep inside Steve’s chest. His tongue darted out almost of its own accord and licked Tony’s lips, and in response Tony parted them. Their mouths, their bodies, everything seemed to fit together so perfectly. Steve found his arms wrapping around Tony’s waist, pulling him closer and holding him in place. As long as their mouths were occupied, Steve wouldn’t be tempted to use his to ask questions he didn’t want to know the answer to.

Eventually, though, Tony’s kisses began to drift from Steve’s mouth to his jaw, then wandered down his throat. That was its own new level of overwhelming. It was so wrong, but it felt _so good_.

Words tumbled out of Steve’s mouth.

“Y-your wife…” He gasped.

Tony laughed against Steve’s neck. “Dead men don’t have wives.”

“This is some kind of witchcraft.” Steve concluded, then added pleadingly, “Isn’t it?”

Tony shook his head. “Just good old-fashioned seduction.”

Closing his eyes, Steve slumped against the tree. He knew it wasn’t witchcraft. He knew he was just… wrong somehow. No matter how many princesses Steve was introduced to, he never felt anything for them but obligation. It was his duty to love whoever his father chose for him, but whenever Steve thought of who he might chose for himself, his thoughts wandered to places they weren’t supposed to. Deep down, in the most honest part of himself, Steve knew he’d rather be with Rumlow than with any princess.

He’d rather be with Tony most of all. Steve’s eyes fluttered open and he looked at Tony. Those eyes set Steve on fire. He’d never met anyone so beautiful or kissed anyone who made him feel like this. He’d never wanted to keep a secret from his father before.

“What’re you thinking, Honey?” There he was, purring again.

Steve knew that he was nothing without his father. If even a rumor of what Steve wanted to do found its way back to the king, the best Steve could hope for was a cold dismissal. He’d go back to being a destitute orphan, unloved and unwanted. That was only if his father decided to spare him from the usual fate of those who lied to him and betrayed him.

“I should go home.” Steve replied sheepishly.

“You should.” Tony agreed. “You don’t want to, though.”

“My father…”

“Much like my wife, is not here.” Tony grinned, but again, his eyes were serious. He seemed impatient.

All Steve wanted to do was what was right, but it seemed whenever he tried to figure out right from wrong, a strange fog would blur his thoughts. He glanced around the clearing, but the answer to his dilemma was nowhere to be found.

“Okay, fine.” Tony sighed as he pulled away from Steve. The air was warm, but Steve felt suddenly cold without Tony’s body heat pressed against him. “Run home to Daddy. Be a good little prince.”

Steve scoffed. “If you think that’s going to work on me, you’re wrong. I’m not going to be goaded into… staying with you.”

“Oh, there’s no angle here.” Tony stalked off, back into the forest. “I just really have no time to waste on little boys who can’t make their own decisions.”

Steve didn’t follow him. He didn’t have anything to prove to some vagrant.

He didn’t.

“I can make my own decisions.” Steve insisted as he crashed through the forest after Tony.

“Well, Highness, it doesn’t exactly seem that way.” Tony turned on his heel to face Steve. “I was pretty much plastered to you back there. I had very clear sense of your ‘enthusiasm.’ Then, when things start to heat up, you give me the brush off. Hurt my feelings.”

Steve felt a little limp. “You don’t understand. Without my father, I’m nothing. I have a duty to obey his laws.”

“There’s no law out in the forest. There’s just you, and what you want.” Tony looked him straight in the eye. “You gotta ask yourself, are you gonna be man enough to _take_ what you want?”

Steve didn’t have time to reply before Tony continued.

“I tell you what, Princeling, I’ll make it easy for you.” He laughed, almost triumphantly, and put himself right back in Steve’s space. “You go home. You take some time. Sleep in your bed, all alone, and you think about it. And if you figure out what kind of man you are by tomorrow at sunrise, you come back to that little clearing and you _show_ me.”

He kissed Steve then, fully, and again Steve found himself getting lost in how perfect it felt. Again, his lips felt cold when, all to soon, Tony pulled away.

Without another word, Tony disappeared into the trees, and Steve was left with only his words swirling around and around in his head.

<><><> 

Morning twilight poured through Steve’s window, and he still hadn’t decided what he was going to do. He hadn’t slept. All night long he imagined it over and over, meeting Tony in the forest and following wherever Tony decided to take him. Someplace secret. Then they’d…

Steve didn’t actually know what they’d do. His entire knowledge of these kinds of relations came from crude jokes that the guardsmen sometimes cracked. Honestly, Steve didn’t care what they did, or how. All he wanted was to touch Tony again. Steve brushed his fingers against his lips, remembering the way it had felt when Tony kissed him.

If he got to kiss Tony again, Steve didn’t think he’d be able to stop. If he met Tony in the forest, he wouldn’t be able to come back home and just forget about it. He’d want to go back, again and again and again. This wasn’t just about seeing Tony. Steve had to decide if he was ready to start a whole secret life.

It was getting lighter outside. Even if Steve left now, he’d be late.

The decision was still hanging over him when he got out of bed. Maybe he’d just go for a ride. He didn’t have to pick a destination right away. He washed his face and put on some nice clothes, but it didn’t mean he had to see anybody. It just meant he _could_ see somebody if he decided to later.

Hardly anyone was awake to witness Steve leaving, and he supposed that was the point. Fewer people seeing him go meant fewer people asking questions meant fewer people Steve had to lie to. He was no good at lying. He’d need to get better.

Steve was deep in the forest by the time the bluish glow of twilight started to turn pink in the sun, but still nowhere near the clearing. Tony might wait for him a little while past sunrise, but if Steve really wanted this, it would be better for him to hurry.

For some reason, Steve felt like there had been a time in his life when he’d been decisive. All he knew now was that his thoughts muddled together whenever he tried too hard to think. There was only one truth clear and steady in his mind: He must always be a dutiful, obedient son.

But… his father had never _expressly_ forbid _Steve_ from breaking the law. Steve urged Bucky forward a little faster. No, now that Steve was royalty, the rules surely applied differently to him. Just a little faster. If Steve didn’t tell his father where he was going and who he was meeting, that wasn’t necessarily a _secret_. Just _private_.

It wasn’t long before Steve found himself back in the clearing. It was empty. Tony must have gotten tired of waiting. Steve’s heart sank. He shouldn’t have waited so long to set out, shouldn’t have hesitated, and now it was too late. He slipped off of his saddle and let Bucky wander around the field, feeling guilty that he’d made the horse race for no reason.

Steve contemplated going after Tony, trying to guess which way he’d gone, but the thought barely had time to enter his head before a noise drew Steve’s attention to the trees. A figure was emerging from them: Tony.

Heart somersaulting, Steve practically ran to Tony. Something was wrong, though. Tony wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even pretending.

“You waited for me.” Steve said. He wished Tony would kiss him again, but Tony didn’t move an inch towards him. He just stood there, not even looking at Steve, just peering into the forest.

“Who knows you’re here?” He demanded. It was as if he had even noticed Steve speaking.

“Nobody. Why would I tell anybody about this?” Steve leaned a little closer, hoping Tony would catch the hint.

Tony seemed to catch the movement out of the corner of his eye, because he afforded Steve a brief, clinical glance. “Didn’t mention anything to your friends? Didn’t let anything slip to one of the servants? You’re sure nobody knows where to find you if they come looking?”

“Nothing, Tony. I’ve got more to lose than you if we get caught.” Steve looked over Tony’s body. It was worth the risk.

“Did anybody follow you?”

“Nobody follows me without me knowing.” Steve grinned. “I promise nobody’s gonna find us. We’re alone.”

Tony took a step back, and his expression went from cold and unreadable to disgusted. Hateful. Steve felt a chill go up his spine. “Actually, _you’re_ alone.”

Something hit Steve in the neck and imbedded itself there. He grabbed it and pulled it out, but it was too late. Already he could feel numbness rapidly taking over his body. Immediately, Steve thought of the poison-tipped darts certain bands of outlaws used during their raids.

“I brought backup this time, you son of a bitch.” Tony snarled.

Then everything went black.

<><><> 

Voices. Echoing, indecipherable voices filled Steve’s throbbing head. Mottled colors floated dizzyingly in front of his eyes, so Steve squeezed them shut before he got seasick and vomited all over himself. Tight, coarse rope bit into his wrists, which were suspended high above his head. He was on his knees and the pain in his legs told him that he’d been that way for a while.

“-seems wrong. He’s just a kid.”

“Nat’s the same age. He’s old enough to choose his side. He chose wrong.”

That was Tony’s voice. The pain in Steve’s head shot through his whole body. He’d been tricked. Tony never wanted him; he’d only picked up on Steve’s attraction and used it to bait a trap. _Just good old-fashioned seduction._ And Steve had been so _desperate_ to finally have his attraction returned that he didn’t think or ask questions. He never connected the mysterious man living in the forest with the outlaw raids that had been plaguing the king and his men.

He should have. Steve’s heart felt leaden in his chest. All he’d wanted was to not feel so alone, and now he was more alone than ever.

“Think he’s waking up.”

Rough hands gripped his chin, forcing him to look up. Steve opened his eyes and tried to make them focus in the dim light.

“Rise and shine, Highness.” It was Tony holding him. Steve was still seeing double, but he did his best to scowl at the shape hovering over him.

“Bastard.” Steve spat.

“Mmmm I’m a bastard?” Tony laughed bitterly. Angrily. “ _Your father_ killed the last king and took this country by force. He’s sent the Witchbreed into hiding, those he hasn’t killed anyway. He’s burned entire villages to the ground. Didn’t even let the women and children leave first.” Tony’s voice got darker as he spoke. “But I’m a bastard. Got it.”

Steve winced and shut his eyes. Not only was his head spinning, but now the noise in his brain was back. It was right, he knew it was right to burn down those villages, but something about the memory of one in particular always gave him a splitting headache. The noise… like screaming inside his head, was deafening.

People were speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear. There was just the roaring in his ears.

Then pain. Someone kicked him in the ribs and Steve struggled to wrest back control of his mind.

“He’s still high from the icer dart, Stark. I don’t think he can hear you.”

“That’s why I’m kicking him!”

“Stark… Let us go walk outside, my friend.”

Tony had been the one who kicked him. Tony _hated_ him. Something about that hurt.

Steve heard the ground in front of him crunch, and he opened his eyes to see a man crouched so they were face-to-face. He was bald and dark-skinned, Wakandish maybe, with a patch over one eye.

“You want to go home, don’t you?” He said.

“I can’t go home.” Steve replied. How could he face his father after what he’d done? How could he explain why he’d disappeared? “You should just kill me.”

“Alright, we can do that too.” The man said. He talked to Steve like they were friends.

Voices floated forward from the back of the cave.

“Hey woah… we didn’t say anything about killing him.”

“Like Stark says. He’s got enough blood on his hands.”

Steve’s vision was starting to clear, and he spotted three figures behind the one-eyed man. One was dark, one was fair, and one had flame-red hair. He couldn’t see much more than that.

“How this ends is completely up to his royal highness here.” The one-eyed man announced to the room. Turning back to Steve, he said, “You _can_ go home. And tell everybody the truth! That you were ambushed and captured by brigands. Then make up some story about how you fought us all off, I don’t know. You won’t ever learn enough about us to matter. Or… we can kill you. Your choice.”

Steve played that in his mind, how that would go, admitting to his father that he’d been outsmarted. It was a moot point. Steve already knew too much. They weren’t _actually_ going to let him go.

“Yeah, you might be embarrassed at first, but think about the big picture. Is a few days of wounded pride really worth dying over? I’m sure your family wants you back.” The one-eyed man continued. “But, before we let you go we’re going to ask you a few questions. Do yourself a favor and answer them. This _can_ be a painless process.”

Steve scowled. “You can’t torture information out of me.”

“A lot of guys think that. Until the pain starts.” The one-eyed man stood. “Anything you wanna say you can tell Natalia. Why don’t we let the lady work, gentlemen.”

The fair-haired man left without question. The dark-haired man stayed.

“Nick _torture-“_

“Won’t be necessary if the boy is smart.” The one-eyed man said as he ushered the dark-haired man out.

“Nat…”

“Nat is doing what she has to.” The red-haired figure stood and spoke. She was a woman, to Steve’s surprise, but she dressed as the men did, in those Lincoln-green tunics. She had a heavy accent- a foreigner. It was not surprising at all that these men kept foreign women. “If he needs tortured, I do. If no, is for everyone better.”

The dark-haired man was hesitant, but he allowed the one-eyed man, Nick, to push him out of the cavern. Then it was just Steve and the blurry Natalia.

“You can’t torture information out of me.” Steve said.

“You sure? Ever you have been tortured before?” Natalia said, as if it was a matter of course.

“Yes.” Steve replied. He was lying. He couldn’t remember ever having been tortured before, but it spilled out of his mouth so quickly that it felt true.

After a pause, Natalia spoke again. “I don’t want to hurt you. Hurting people, I don’t like.” She looked a little sad. “I was like you once, when I was child. I used to do bad things. Now I don’t.”

Natalia looked at Steve with a kind of sincerity he wasn’t ready to accept.

“Bad things, you don’t have to do anymore.”

“I don’t do bad things.” Steve said through gritted teeth. “Serving my king is never wrong.” If Steve made it out of this, he would never, ever disobey his father’s laws again, and he would hunt these people down and slaughter every last one of them.

“Okay.” Natalia acquiesced. “Then I torture and kill you like Nick has say.”

She didn’t say anything more. Instead, she unrolled a pack of knives and began to, very deliberately, sharpen them. Steve kept his eye on each blade as she worked, feeling his mouth go dry. Finally, making a serious effort to keep his voice steady, he spoke.

“Did you kill my horse?”

“How many people you have killed?” Natalia snapped contemptuously. “And you ask about your _horse?_ ” She looked looked up at him, no longer achingly understanding, but openly disgusted. Then, for no discernible reason, her eyes widened with shock.

“I don’t need to be lectured about the moral high-ground by someone who is about to torture me.” Steve scolded. “Tell me what happened to my horse.”

Natalia blinked. “Your eyes… _kak govorish’… siniy…_ your eyes are blue.”

Steve’s stomach dropped for reasons he couldn’t quite place. “No, they’re not.”

Muttering in her native language, Natalia bundled her knives back into their pack and ran out of the room.

Then Steve was alone. It would have been nice if Natalia had accidentally left her knives in her hurry, but Steve suspected she was too smart to make a mistake like that. They were all smart. They’d been terrorizing royal forces for months, and not a single one of them had been caught. They’d lured Steve into a trap with minimum effort. He shouldn’t underestimate them.

Still, if he could get his hands free, and if luck was on his side, there was a chance he could escape and be home before anybody noticed he was missing. As Steve shifted his wrists, trying to loosen his bonds, he imagined himself sneaking out of the cave. If he was quiet, if he chose the right pathways that would lead to the surface, if he didn’t run into more than one or maybe two people at a time, he had a chance.

He kind of hoped he’d run into Tony. Steve was certain he’d feel better about Tony tricking him if he could feel the man’s neck snap in his hands. That would be _incredibly_ cathartic.

The ropes bit into him, but didn’t feel like they were loosening. In fact, if anything, they felt like they were getting tighter the harder Steve fought with them. Needing a new plan, Steve cast his gaze over his surroundings. The rough stone walls might have been jagged enough to wear down the ropes, but Steve was in the center of the room. He couldn’t reach the walls. These outlaws were smart.

There wasn’t time for Steve to come up with a third plan. He heard voices echoing through the cave on their way towards him, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Soon after, Natalia re-entered the room with the fair- and dark-haired men, as well as another man, much taller and shaggier than the others.

“What is this?” Steve demanded. He didn’t imagine Natalia had anything good planned for him if it required the help of three grown men.

“Two questions I will ask.” Natalia explained. “Answer yes or no. Is easy.”

“I’m not telling you anything.” Steve insisted.

“Is easy. I promise.” Natalia cupped his chin, far less roughly than Tony had, and tilted his head so he was looking at her three companions. They had a nervous, expectant energy. Steve had no idea what Natalia had told them or what they wanted to happen, but he hated being on display like this. It made him feel like a trophy… more so than usual.

“Do you love your father?”

Steve was taken aback by the intimacy of the question, as well as the simplicity. He went over it in his mind, trying to figure out how the information might be used to trick him or manipulate him, but couldn’t think of anything.

“Yes, of course I do.” It wasn’t like they were learning anything that wasn’t completely self-explanatory anyway.

Natalia pointed to Steve’s face. “Now watch. Do you love your horse?”

That was it. That was the angle. Steve felt sick. Bucky was still around somewhere, and these people were going to hurt him to try and make Steve talk. That was the reason they cared who and what he loved.

“The horse didn’t do anything wrong.” Steve found himself pleading. He looked into the face of the dark-haired man, the one who’d been squeamish about torture. If any of them were soft enough to be malleable, it had to be him. “He’s just a dumb animal, and I won’t talk either way. You won’t get anything by hurting him.”

That was apparently the answer they were hoping for, because the three men looked at each other and nodded.

“You saw it?” Natalia asked.

“Yeah it’s subtle, but you’re right.” The dark-haired man agreed. “His eyes change, like Clinton’s did.” As he spoke he nodded towards the fair-haired man.

“Ok, so we bump him on the head and see if he turns into a good guy.” The fair haired-man (Clinton, perhaps?) suggested.

“Three days only you were… um _zakoldovannyy_. You have sorcerer in brain very short time.” Natalia began. “He is maybe like this years. Is not so easy to knock sorcerer out of brain, I think.”

“Does anybody want to start making sense?” Steve huffed.

“Natalia’s instincts are good, I find no fault in her logic.” The large man spoke as if Steve hadn’t. “A blow strong enough to undo such a deep bewitching would likely kill him.”

“Your brother is the one who witched _me,_ Thórr.” Clinton said. “You Ancients got any fast and dirty tips for _unwitching_?”

The large shaggy man who seemed to be named Thórr simply looked at Steve and screwed up his face. It was almost like he was pitying Steve.

“I’m not witche- _betwitched_.” Steve insisted, louder than he’d intended to. He was not. He was not bewitched. **Not bewitched.** He was the person he was, and who he wanted to be. He wanted to be this way. He _wanted_ to be this way.

The inside of his head kept _yelling_ at him and he wanted it to _stop_.

After a pause, the dark-haired man spoke. “Clinton, you said that when you were under Loki’s spell, there was a part of you that knew what was going on and wanted to get out, right? Fundamentally, I think the cognitive recalibration Nat performed on you-“

“The _concussion_ she gave me.”

“ _Da. Pozhaluysta._ ”

“What I’m saying is a spell like this doesn’t seem to destroy the old personality, it just suppresses it.” The man continued. “Which has a kind of logic to it, right? I mean, if you want to change the direction of a river, you don’t destroy the river and make a new one. You just build a dam.”

He was wrong. There was no spell, no dam in Steve’s mind keeping his real self at bay. **No.**

“Brutus, that’s conjecture.” Clinton complained.

“Actually, this is not unlike what we were taught of sorcery in the Learning Hall.” Thórr said. “Though I admit I was not often… in attendance.”

“Okay so, if you break the dam, the river goes back to normal.” The dark-haired Brutus went on. “Something about being knocked unconscious broke the dam in Clinton’s head. We need to recreate that event on a more profound scale.”

“I’m not bewitched. You can’t fix me.” Steve mumbled at the ground. “I’m just like this. Hitting me won’t change anything.”

“Yeah we know. We already knocked you out and nothing happened.” Clinton said. “So what’s the plan. We can’t put him any further under without killing him. Hate to say it, Nat, but you might have been wrong about leaving Stark out. He’s kind of the ideas guy.”

“Brutus is ideas guy. Stark is not so smart when he is angry.”

Thórr, who had been contemplative up until this point, finally spoke up. “Do we think that putting him deep into his subconscious would help… ‘break his dam’?”

“There’s no dam.” Steve’s voice sounded quieter and quieter every time he spoke.

“It’s as good a theory as any.” Brutus agreed. “We have to try, and keep trying. We have to save him.”

“I don’t need saving.” He was basically mouthing words towards the ground at this point.

“Would going into a trance work?” Thórr asked.

Brutus shrugged.

“You are building towards point?” Natalia asked.

“Going into a trance is how we Ancients accessed the realm of our Gods and ancestors, as well as the inner reaches of our own minds.” Thórr explained cheerfully. “In other words, I have a fast and dirty tip for entering an altered state.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Thórr said. “I’ll need some of the mushrooms growing outside.”

<><><> 

Steve didn’t try to escape while Thórr, Brutus and Natalia searched for mushrooms and Clinton watched him. He didn’t think. He pointedly _did not_ think. Steve counted the pebbles on the ground in front of his face. Seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five.

What would his real personality sound like, if it was being suppressed? Would it sound like a _noise_ in the back of his head?

Seventy-six. Seventy-seven.

Would the person he was now die if they changed him back? Could he die if he’d never been real in the first place?

Seventy… seventy-seven.

Did his family love him at all? Was he a joke to them?

**Seventy-seven. Seventy- _fuck._**

He just had to stop thinking. These people were _wrong_ about him. He wasn’t bewitched.

Thórr and Brutus returned after a time, and Steve lost his place. Two-hundred-and-thirty-something… but he’d counted that one twice. He was lost. He was completely lost.

Brutus held something in front of his face and told him to eat it, and Steve did. Why not? If it was poison, why not just die? And if it wasn’t… then it wouldn’t do anything because Steve was not a river to be undammed. He was himself. He was real.

He wanted to be real.

Nothing happened, and of course nothing _would_ happen. Steve was himself; he had always been himself. He’d always been the way he’d always been. Always been the way he’d always the way the always be he been and bend a bit. He was a bendy bit a bit bendy. He was bendy. Felt so bendy.

It was a little odd to find himself bending backwards into time, into himself. It was a little odd to find himself walking out of the cave. He knew he was tied up, but walking away was easy. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because he was small, and the ropes slipped off of his tiny wrists.

When had he been small? His mother said he’d been small when he was born. Too small to survive. He’d been a fighter, though. That’s what his mother said; that he’d fought to survive. He could see her now, smiling down at him like he was a little baby.

“Get up, Steve. You always get up.”

So he did. He got up out of her arms and got up. And he kept getting up, up up up, until he was floating over the forest. When he looked down he saw his tiny little body, lying on the ground. The wizard, the one who had made him big, was standing over him.

“Stay who you are… a good man.”

But he wasn’t going to. He picked up the shield and then he and Bucky marched like little toy soldiers on a game board. Steve picked up the pieces, the pair of white knights, saw how much care had but put into the craftsmanship of one, not the other. Steve played chess. Sometimes you had to sacrifice pieces. Sometimes you had to sacrifice _all_ the pieces. He marched the knights forward on the board, towards the red king.

Towards the Red Skull. It captured them both. Sometimes the other player was just better.

Except the other player had cheated, pulled some piece from another game. A blue die. A blue light. It filled the room and then it filled Steve until he wasn’t Steve anymore. Steve was outside. The light was inside. The door was right in front of him, and Steve banged on it, demanding to be let in.

When it finally opened, the other Steve, the one with the light in him, looked tired.

“I’m bendy. He complained.

“Me too.” Steve said.

“I don’t want to go.” He replied.

“You’re not going.” Steve answered. “You’re coming back.”

A torrent of water rushed through the doorway and hit him in the face, knocking him backwards. He tumbled around and around until he didn’t know which way was up. The current carried him, and Steve fell limply into its embrace. His lungs burned and he inhaled. He inhaled water. Fresh, cold, clean water. He sucked it all in. He was a river.

One arm pulled him out of the water. When he washed up on shore, he was clean.

Steve stared at the cavern ceiling for what felt like forever. They’d untied him, and he was lying on the floor of the cave, never having actually left it. He was seeing double again. There were two worlds in front of him, and he struggled to reconcile them.

In the forest, a twig cracked.

“Explain yourself.” Steve mumbled.

“It’s just me.”

Steve didn’t recognize the voice.

“That was weird.”

“I know.” The voice paused. “You were talking during the trance. I heard everything.”

“You know what happened to me?” Steve still wasn’t quite right. His words were making patterns on the cave ceiling.

“Yes.” Whoever was in there with him was making their own patterns, and they were mixing together. “Are you… are you okay, Steve?”

 _Steve_. It had been years since someone had called him that. The real him.

“I’m okay.” He lied.

<><><> 

They let Steve be alone. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, but that’s what they let him do. He didn’t stay in the cavern, instead wandering off into the forest. One of them secretly followed him. Steve wasn’t sure which one, but he could tell he was being tailed. He didn’t mind, though. It made sense not to let him get lost. He might draw attention to their camp if he was found.

His wrists hurt. His knees hurt. His eyes and throat burned.

Eventually, when it was almost dark, he accidentally stumbled across the clearing where this had all started. His horse was still there. Steve found himself laughing softly at the sight of his faithful animal waiting for him hours later. It was a bittersweet comfort. On the one hand, he did love the horse. He was glad Bucky wasn’t hurt.

On the other hand, Bucky _was_ hurt. The _human_ Bucky, the one-armed boy that Steve convinced himself he’d never looked twice at. In reality, Steve could never take his eyes off him. Memories flashed in his brain like knives in his skull. Years of watching his best friend tortured and abused right in front of him were condensed into one horrible realization.

Steve sat heavily on the riverbank, not caring that the earth was damp and muddy. Bucky, the horse Bucky, walked over to him and nuzzled into the side of his head. The poor thing probably wanted to go home. Steve shut his eyes and swallowed painfully. He wished he could go home too.

Now that he wasn’t in a trance, it was easier to make sense of the memories he’d gotten back. He and Bucky, the human Bucky, had practically been children when they’d set out on their journey to overthrow the king. The wizard who’d given Steve his power and his shield had told him it was his destiny, but now the wizard was dead, and Steve had failed to kill the king. He’d been close, but in the end the king had used some kind of magic stone to alter his mind. Steve had been a slave ever since.

Steve was lost in these thoughts when Tony approached. Steve didn’t even notice him until they were side-by-side.

“You were the one following me?”

Tony whistled. “Huh. You did say nobody follows you without you knowing. Guess that wasn’t total bullshit.” He sat down next to Steve with a squelch. “Ah! You couldn’t have found a wetter piece of ground?”

Steve didn’t say anything. He watched the river babbling by and wondered if bathing would make him feel clean.

Tony waited a long time before he spoke again. “They told me what happened. About you being bewitched. And taking a ride to the land inside of your mind. To get dewitched.”

Steve’s head swam just thinking about that. He knew now that the vision hadn’t been real, but it had _felt_ real, and he was pretty sure that for part of it he’d been a wolf.

“Anyway.” Tony said. “I guess I’m sorry I kicked you, and some other stuff.”

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. “You guess? That’s a comfort.” He snapped his head to look at Tony and was shocked to see tears sparkling, caught in his eyelashes.

Tony nodded. “I probably deserve that.”

Steve sighed and stared back at the ground. He felt exhausted. “No, you don’t…. I’m just-“

“Angry.” Tony finished. “You’re pissed right? I’d be pissed. I’m pissed for you.”

 _Pissed_ didn’t really begin to cover it.

“Hey, look. This really isn’t an excuse or anything.” Tony continued. “I just… get it. Kinda. I mean, obviously you win the ‘worst backstory award’ hands down, and nobody’s taking that away from you. But I’m pissed too. It’s why I… hurt you.”

Tony took a moment and sniffed, then went on.

“People don’t talk about this much. Obviously, it’s not smart for me to advertise it, but my dad fought against the Red Skull during the war. Even after the whole thing went to shit, Dad kept fighting. Stupid.” Tony’s fists clenched. “Hydra likes to make examples out of people who defy them. They don’t just kill you. They kill your wife first and make you watch…”

As grateful as he was to finally remember his mother, Steve also remembered how painful it was to watch her die. “I’m sorry Tony.”

“Not your fault.” Tony flicked a pebble into the river. “You were a baby. Were you even a baby back then? Anyway. The point I’m making is that Hydra’s really dicked us all over. You, me, everybody.”

Steve pulled his knees a little closer and sucked in a breath. “Those towns the king burned down…” He didn’t know if he could get through telling this, but Tony had just been so honest with him. He felt like he had to say something back. “He used to make me help.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You were bewitched.”

There was a part of Steve that couldn’t quite believe that. If he’d just fought a little harder, maybe he could have… “One of the towns… they hadn’t even done anything. He just wanted me to prove my loyalty. He wanted to spite me. It was called Broke Llyn, it-“

Something caught in Steve’s throat. He fought hard to keep tears from spilling out of his eyes, afraid that once they started, they would never stop.

“It was your hometown.” Tony guessed. “Steve, that’s a normal thing to be sad about. I wouldn’t judge you if you-“

Steve cleared his throat. “Worst backstory award, right?”

Tony reached out and put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, and the touch sent a flutter through Steve’s chest. Shocked, he looked back over to see Tony watching him softly. He’d thought that perhaps his strange attraction was part of the bewitching. It would have been a cruel joke; forcing Steve to root out ‘undesirables’ while he himself was one.

A flush spread across Steve’s cheeks as he again took in Tony’s dark eyes and handsome features. Not part of the spell, then. Just part of him. He didn’t mind so much anymore. There were plenty of worse things to be than this.

“How did you know I’d…” Steve paused, unsure how much he should admit. What if Tony and the others _also_ thought he only wanted Tony because he’d been bewitched. Maybe he should just let them continue to believe that.

Tony hummed. “You mean, how’d I know I could seduce you? Beyond my universal appeal, of course. Ah, let’s just say it’s easy to find something if you’re looking for it.”

Steve felt his heart hammer against his ribs. “Then you’re… and your wife is…”

“What? _Sonnesett_?” Tony shot Steve a look like he’d sprouted a second head. “She’s a - _yikes-_ she’s a whole _other_ subject. Who do you think tried to have me killed? Sonnesett and I are not exactly living in marital bliss. You don’t have to smile so hard about it.”

Steve hadn't realized he’d been smiling, but he quickly wiped the expression off his face. “No, it’s- obviously it’s not good that she wanted to kill you. That’s not very… wifely.”

Tony laughed. “You’re not wrong.”

There was something so easy about being around Tony. Steve felt himself leaning into him before he even realized what he was doing. Somehow, it was almost possible to forget everything that had happened over the past years and just _exist_ in this moment. With him.

He glanced at Steve out of the corner of his eye and smiled, almost sadly. His gaze lingered a moment on Steve’s lips then flicked up to meet his eyes.

“It would make sense.” He began slowly. “For you to go back.”

Was that… inuendo that Steve didn’t understand?

“To the castle.” Tony clarified. “Having someone on the inside who could give us information might make a real difference. Because taking down the king is the only thing that matters. Right, Steve?”

“I… yeah.” The thought of going back to those evil people and _staying_ any longer than was absolutely necessary made Steve’s whole body seize up with fear. He wasn’t a coward, though. He could do it.

“With the kingdom in the state that it is, I couldn’t possibly think of my own _personal gratification_.” Tony let the phrase hang in the air for a second. “At least, not until after.”

Like that, the moment was over. Steve remembered again what Tony had said yesterday: _just good old-fashioned seduction_. Tony wanted something. That was all it had ever been. Steve felt as if he was shrinking down to the size of one of the pebbles on the riverbank, the warmth that had bloomed in his chest while talking to Tony having dissipated. Tony kept leaving him cold.

He wasn’t wrong, though. A spy with access to the highest levels of Hydra’s organization could easily turn this band of outlaws from a royal annoyance into a bona fide resistance. And didn’t Steve have an obligation to do anything he could to fight Hydra and the king?

He would do it, but because it was the right thing to do. Not because Tony was making some empty promise to reward him for it ‘after’.

“I’ve been away from the castle a really long time.” Steve stood and tried to brush the mud off the back of his tunic. “I’ll come up with some excuse for it on the way back. Maybe I’ll tell them I… accidentally ate a weird mushroom, or something.”

“You don’t have to go right away.” Tony stood as well and seemed to hover uncertainly. “You can stay a few days. Collect your thoughts. Say you got lost.”

“I don’t have any reason to stay, Stark.” Steve replied, pointedly enough that Tony seemed to flinch.

“I guess you don’t.” Tony agreed half-heartedly.

With nothing more to say, Steve lifted himself onto his horse. Despite an overpowering sense of dread filling his body like a pile of stones, he turned in the direction of the castle and began to urge Bucky forward.

“Wait, Steve.”

He knew starting off again would be hard, but Steve stopped anyway. He felt Tony take his hand and didn’t look down. There was nothing he wanted to see, and even less he wanted to show.

“Be careful, okay?”

“I don’t need to be careful.” Steve replied, praying that his voice didn’t betray any hint of how afraid he was. “I’m just going home.”

As night began to fall over the forest, Steve headed off. He waited until he was sure Tony couldn’t see him anymore before he let himself start shaking. Fruitlessly, he tried to convince himself that he could be good at this, that nobody would suspect a thing. It didn’t matter either way. It needed to be done, so Steve would do it.

This was his destiny. There didn’t need to be, and there wouldn’t be, anything after.


End file.
